| Back in the fields they painted gold
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| Where every breath just feels like home
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| The people may have changed
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| To me it’s still the same
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| Walking the streets that made this man
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| Talking the tongue that I once had
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| So clear
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| I guess history writes itself here
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| Forget all the bright lights
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| The towering skylines
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| There’s something about this town
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| Where heaven is closer
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| The weight off my shoulders
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| There’s something about this town
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| And I can’t change what I am made of now
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| I guess there’s something about this town
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| The faces are lost at old john bull’s
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| I guess the sands of time are cruel
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| Somebody calls my name
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| Wish I could do the same
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| Lights of the grand hotel’s gone dark
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| But stars seem to shine with a different spark
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| So clear
|
| I guess history writes itself here
|
| Forget all the bright lights
|
| The towering skylines
|
| There’s something about this town
|
| Where heaven is closer
|
| The weight off my shoulders
|
| There’s something about this town
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| So people say that I have made it now
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| I guess there’s something about this town
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| I dream of colours that are evergreen
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| Oh
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| Whenever I’m southbound
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| So please forgive sentimentality
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| Oh there’s something about this town
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| So forget all the bright lights
|
| The towering skylines
|
| There’s something about this town
|
| Where heaven is closer
|
| The weight off my shoulders
|
| There’s something about this town
|
| And I can’t change what I am made of now
|
| I guess there’s something about this town |